


Whither Go Ye, Boatmen Fair?

by And_Dream_Of_Erebor



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 08:46:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/And_Dream_Of_Erebor/pseuds/And_Dream_Of_Erebor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the Hobbit Kink Meme: After a particularly harrowing battle, Gimli is dead tired. Legolas has him ride in front of him, so that he can keep the dwarf from falling off. He sings Gimli a song in elvish. Gimli can't understand the words, but it slowly lulls him to sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whither Go Ye, Boatmen Fair?

There was a song, equally well known by Elves and by mortals, about a maiden called Firiel who woke up at dawn and went down to the river. She saw an elven ship, all gold and white, sailing towards the sea and the Undying Lands. The Elves called to her, telling her that there was room for one more on their ship. Firiel longed to join them, but when she stepped onto the river-bank her foot sank into the mud, reminding her that she was mortal. She returned to her everyday life, and never saw the Elves again.

It isn’t known whether this song was first sung by mortals, mourning their too heavy footsteps that bound them to Middle-Earth, or by the Firstborn, regretting that Valinor was a gift given to them to enjoy, but not to share.

When the battle at the Black Gate began, Legolas found much comfort in knowing that Gimli was at his side, fearless and unshakable as a rock. They fought as one, each one more intent on protecting the other than himself, but in the heat of the battle they had become separated. Gimli was nowhere in sight; Legolas fought on, hoping that he was alive and unharmed. The battle progressed, and Orcs kept pouring out of the Black Gate. Legolas was now fighting with his knives: all his arrows were spent, but even had he still had them they would have been useless at such a close range. His swiftness was his greatest advantage – to the large, unwieldy Orcs he was no more than a flicker of light. One after the other, they fell before they had the chance to see him. But Mordor had a seemingly endless supply of soldiers, and his elven quickness would not serve him forever. He knew that there would come a moment when he would tire or lose concentration, and that would be the end.

He thought of Gimli again, and realised he had given up on hoping that he was still alive. He was now hoping that his death had been quick and merciful.

But then he heard the cries of the Eagles from far above and, unexpectedly, there was hope again. “The Eagles are coming!” he heard Mithrandir’s voice crying from the hill-top where he was standing. “The Eagles are coming!” the soldiers of Gondor and Rohan repeated and Legolas found himself joining them, as if the words themselves held the power to dispel the enemy.

Then the earth shook under them and the fighting stopped. All eyes turned towards Mordor. A shadow rose from far beyond the Morannon, darkened the sky for a moment and then dispersed. The forces of Mordor scattered, confused and scared.

Legolas realised he was still gripping his knives tightly. He released the hold. The knives was covered with blood, as were his unprotected fingers and knuckles. He wasn't sure if it was Orcs' blood or his own, and it didn’t really matter. He had to find Gimli.

He looked around in frenzy, never allowing his gaze to stray down among the fallen, until he heard Gimli's voice calling: “Legolas!” He turned around. The dwarf was walking towards him, carefully stepping over dead Orcs and dragging his axe behind him. Legolas hurried to meet him. When they met they stood in silence for a moment, then Gimli said:

„I reached fifty-two at some point, but then I stopped counting.“

„I stopped counting as well,“ Legolas said. „But, I must confess, I didn't expect we would live to compare counts.”

“Neither did I,” Gimli said and they embraced – a clumsy embrace, because they were still clutching their weapons. They were both on the verge of something that might have been laughter or sobbing, or both.

A great rumble was heard and the two Towers of the Teeth by the Gate, Narchost and Carchost, shook and caved in, creating an immense cloud of dust. When the dust settled, nothing was left of the towers but two heaps of rubble.

“A pity, that,” Gimli said, “because these were fine works of masonry by the Men of Gondor before they were corrupted by dark magic.”

Legolas smiled.

They started searching for their friends. Aragorn was already coming toward them, jubilant and unharmed, and the prince Imrahil was at his side; then they saw Eomer, whose face was covered in blood but he assured them his wound was no more than a scratch. Peregrin Took was nowhere to be seen. They searched for him, no one daring to voice the fear that he was lost, until Gimli cried out that he had found him. A large foot, unmistakably a hobbit one, could be seen under the body of a troll. With the help of a few Men of Rohan, Legolas and Gimli grabbed hold of the heavy carcass and rolled it away. Pippin was completely still, his body contorted into an unnatural position, and for a moment they feared the worst. Legolas placed his hands on Pippin’s forehead and chest.

“He lives!” he said, and the others breathed out in relief.

Turning to Gimli, Legolas saw that he was sitting on the ground now, holding his left shoulder with his right hand, his eyes closed. “Are you hurt?” he asked him with concern.

“I don’t think I am,” Gimli said.

“I know you far too well to believe you, Gimli. Even if your head was cut off from your shoulders you would claim that you weren’t seriously hurt.”

Gimli laughed. When Legolas insisted on examining his arm, he muttered something about fussy Elves, but he didn’t protest while Legolas carefully rolled up his left sleeve.

“You have been wounded, and when you heaved away the troll’s body the strain mad it worse,” Legolas said. “But the healers of Minas Tirith will heal it easily.”

Gimli remained seated on the ground for a few moments, pressing both hands firmly against the earth.

“I can feel the song of the earth changing,” he said. “The life in it is starting to wake.”

“I can feel it too,” Legolas said. “The land here has suffered much, but it will be green again.”

Gandalf approached them, his face bright and his eyes smiling. When he saw the unconscious Hobbit, he held him up in his arms.

“His wounds are serious, but not beyond help,” he said.

“What about Master Frodo and Master Samwise?” Gimli asked in a low voice and glanced towards the red fires of Mount Doom. It wasn’t hard to understand the unspoken words. Legolas, too, feared that the two Hobbits could not have survived. But Gandalf said in a soft voice:

“The Windlords will find them. Do not fear.”

They stood and waited, while the sky above them changed, as if the veil of grey covering it was growing thinner. Finally they heard the calls of the great Eagles, and three winged silhouettes appeared. Two of them seemed to be carrying something, and their calls sounded triumphant. They flew past them and towards Minas Tirith, but the third, who was Gwaihir, Lord of the Eagles himself, made a loop in the sky and flew towards them. He landed in front of Gandalf and said:

“The Halflings are tired and starved, but well! They will be in the White City soon.”

Gandalf thanked him and asked him for one final favour: Pippin, who was in urgent need of help, needed to be carried to Minas Tirith without delay. The Lord of the Eagles carefully took the Hobbit in his talons, spread his wings and disappeared in the sky.

“It is time for us to go back,” Gandalf called to Aragorn, who nodded, and the two of them led the way towards the patch of trees where they had left their horses.

“I left Arod untied,” Legolas said to Gimli, “and I asked him to wait for me as long as there is any hope, and to flee towards Rohan if darkness prevailed.”

"You asked him!" Gimli said and shook his head with a smirk. "I was with you when we left the horses, and I don't remember you speaking to them."

Legolas laughed. "I waited until you had gone ahead and then spoke to Arod quietly. I knew you would have found it funny," he said.

"But of course I would have found it funny -- how could I have not! We were preparing to die, expecting the world to fall into darkness, and there you were, talking to horses!"

"Well, at least I wasn't assessing the quality of masonry on the enemy's towers!" Legolas said and Gimli grinned.

When they reached the patch of trees – thin, sickly trees that have been half poisoned by the shadow under which they were growing --they found that Arod was indeed waiting for them. He greeted Legolas with a glad nuzzle. Legolas leapt on his back with ease and said:

“You must ride in front of me, Gimli. You cannot hold on to me fast enough with your injured arm.”

Gimli didn’t protest, and Legolas grabbed hold of him under the arms and lifted him up onto Arod’s back.

“Don’t let me fall off, please!” he said. Legolas smiled fondly. He found it so endearing that Gimli, who wouldn’t think twice about facing a thousand enemy soldiers alone, still felt uneasy about being on horseback.

“I won’t, don’t worry,” he said and placed his arms firmly around Gimli’s waist. When the soldiers of Gondor rode off, led by Aragorn and Gandalf, Legolas quietly said “Gwaem!” and Arod followed.

Gimli was tense at first, but soon his breathing became slower and his body relaxed, leaning back on Legolas. Legolas lifted his right arm for a moment to take off Gimli’s helmet –they would both be more comfortable that way – and then joined both arms around Gimli’s waist again. Gimli turned his head back just a little, so that he could see Legolas, and asked him:

“Am I too heavy for you?”

“No,” Legolas said. “Don’t worry and try to sleep. I have no need of sleep, and I will hold you firmly.” He leaned forward so that his chin was resting on Gimli’s head.

As they rode further from Mordor the land around them gradually grew greener. The skies were clearing. Patches of bright blue appeared, then a cloud covered them and a soft rain started – a gentle, cleansing spring shower. The drops felt soothing on Legolas’s skin, and Gimli must have felt the same because made no attempt to shield himself from the rain. Then the riders were under blue skies again, and the ground around them had the fresh scent of new life.

A small stream crossed their their way, and the horses leapt over it without effort. Still, when Arod touched ground with a light thud, Legolas felt Gimli twitch slightly and heard a sharp intake of breath.

“Are you still in pain?” Legolas asked.

“A little,” Gimli muttered. Legolas said nothing, but after a while he started to sing in a soft voice. A gentle wind was blowing from the south now, and perhaps it was something in the scent of the air that reminded him of the breath of the sea he had felt when he first saw the Anduin river, and made him choose a song about an elven ship sailing out to sea.

_Taeg hammad thín gâr viriath;_

_Norn e dad i hîr,_

_Be dulu garel delch dathren_

_E tirn i nen thinnol._

As he sang, he felt Gimli relaxing again, his breathing becoming slower. He lifted a hand and brushed a few strands of hair, wet from the rain, from Gimli’s forehead. Then he continued singing about the maiden called Firiel who saw the Elves on their way “to Elvenhome, where the White Tree is growing”, but wasn’t able to join them.

When he finished singing, Gimli’s eyes were closed and his breath was even. Legolas held him, feeling a sudden sorrow he could not explain, not on this happiest of days.

When the White City was visible before them, he gently nudged Gimli awake.

“We are there, Gimli.”

“There? But we only just started!”

“You were sleeping soundly throughout the journey,” Legolas said.

“So I was. How strange! I dreamed about the sea. I think I was on a ship,” Gimli said, rubbing his eyes.

“And did you like it?”

“Not at all! It felt just like being on horseback, most uncomfortable,” Gimli said.

Legolas laughed, but he held Gimli to him more tightly, feeling once again a hint of some inexplicable sorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Tolkien's poem referred to in the story: "The Last Ship". It can be read here:  
> http://www.tolkienion.com/texts/tomclient.html
> 
> The partial translation into Sindarin I quoted in the story is by E. Brundige, found here:  
> http://www.istad.org/tolkien/poetry.html


End file.
